


Never Have I Ever

by ideal_girl (trainwreckdress)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-04-04
Updated: 2003-04-04
Packaged: 2017-11-02 19:43:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/372681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trainwreckdress/pseuds/ideal_girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I dedicate the odd moment in the privy to you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Have I Ever

**Author's Note:**

> Some dialogue care of **ethrosdemon.**

The barrage had started early that day. 

She had just survived a particularly blistering lecture from Professor Vitalis on the importance of tradition and heritage in the magical world after she suggested that maybe, just maybe, the Muggles had done something right with the creation, if not proper implementation, of international cooperatives and political organizations. The class, "Living in the Magical World: Heirarchy and Traditions," was required for graduation, and she wasn't about to blow it off and ruin her spotless academic record. Her mood was dark as she shouldered by groups of noisy students in the hallway, hurrying past them with her head down and mouth screwed up in a scowl.

"It’s a pity about you really." 

The proximity of the voice startled her, but she continued down the hallway and into the courtyard, attempting to ignore the verbal jab as she pulled her cloak tight against the chill. She delicately side-stepped a sparking Fitzty Whitzit, pressing her books against her chest and unceremoniously lifting the edge of her Prefect's cloak to flick the whirling ball out of the footpath. A group of fourth-years, badly hidden by a stone statue of a laughing gnome and an out-of-place potted plant, groaned as she walked by, another potential laugh destroyed in the name of common sense.

The owner of the voice finally caught up with her as she entered the building that housed their only shared class, Potions. He clipped his strides to fall into step with her much shorter legs, juggling a stack of books that rivaled her own.

She looked up at him calmly, and with a well-practiced chin lift, she plastered a fake smile across her lips. "What, that I can’t avoid you?"

Amusement hovered at the corner of his bow-lipped mouth. "That you will live your pathetic, sniveling life as a lackey to those not nearly as brilliant as you."

"I don’t know what’s stranger," she replied. "That I think you complimented me backhandedly, or that the amount of time you must have spent considering it."

The door to the dungeon loomed ahead of them, and he sprinted ahead of her to grasp the iron hasp and push the heavy wood open. He paused in the portico and turned toward her, his arms spanning the wide opening, the light from the classroom causing his frame to cast a shadow over her.

She moved to duck under his arm, push him out of the way, anything, really, just to get away from him. His arm came down, trapping her in between the door and his robes. Fear and disgust and something else licked at her throat as he tipped his head down to better meet her gaze.

"I dedicate the odd moment in the privy to you."

With a sound of disgust, she pushed him aside and crossed the room to take her usual seat besides Harry and Ron.

"What was that about, Hermione?" Ron asked, concern coloring his eyes a dark blue.

She slammed her books down on her desk and slid into her seat. "Nothing," she replied, her cheeks burning.

"Are you sure, because Harry and I here are always looking for a reason to rough up Malfoy," he countered, studying her curiously bright eyes and flushed skin. "Right, Harry?" he continued, slapping the other boy on the shoulder.

"Sorry?" Harry answered, pre-occupied with last minute cramming for Snapes' rumored quiz on blug-blatter beasts and their poisonous milk.

"It's nothing," she spat out through clenched teeth. 

Ron put up his hands in mock defense and turned back to his books. "All right, then, 'Mione. I was just trying to --"

"I mean it, Ron!" The anger in her voice shocked her, and her hand rose to her mouth in a strange mix of surprise and remorse.

Before she could even apologize to Ron, Snape was at the front of the class, his dark hair bobbing around his head as he reprimanded Gryffindor 10 points for "Miss Granger's temper" or some such ridiculousness. She sighed and opened a new roll of parchment. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his blond head turn slightly her way.

She didn't look up.

~~

The fall passed quickly, dreams coloring her sleep when she could find time to surrender herself to unconsciousness. The soldier in her dreams had begun to take shape in her waking hours as she watched pictures in history books depicting the Last Great War fighting and dying over and over again as she turned pages. But those same history books didn't speak of a woman - a witch - accompanying men to the field, watching over them as they readied to die in battle. The books had no light to shine on her place in the mysterious vision. She had even given in and asked one of the ancient librarians if she was aware of any such individuals. After a long pause and a creak of a floorboard, the woman affixed Hermione with one good eye and simply said, "No."

She didn't believe it. Especially when she saw the inhabitants of the pictures within listening distance begin to hurriedly whisper to one another.

~~

"Honestly, do you have a Locator charm on me?" she asked the slim figure as it rose out of the shadow cast by a column supporting the library's balustrade. Anger rose in her chest as she set off down the snow-covered path.

He hurried after her, gray eyes matching the late evening fog, flashing with a hint of mischief and malice. "Who would need one when your hair is visible from a one-mile radius?"

Rage rose and fell in her stomach, her feet moving faster to get away from the offending voice. Her boot-clad foot caught on a loose cobblestone, nearly knocking her to the ground, but she quickly recovered and allowed her feet to carry her away from the library and toward the dormitory at a slower pace. She suppressed the desire to smooth her hair into a quick knot and opted to instead shuffle her books around as she walked. "Sort of like your cloud of pestilence," she finally replied, voice carefully neutral.

A laugh cut through the darkness, echoing across the grounds. "Very like, yes."

She wanted to ignore him, she really did, but years of oppressed rage and hatred bubbled to the top. "You know," she shot back. "Your wit really is an astounding credit to your House."

"I know they brainwash you over in your tower about us, Granger," he replied easily. "But I thought you of all people could think for yourself."

She felt stars explode in her chest as she stopped short and whirled around to face him. The fog was thick and she soon found herself enveloped in the folds of his designer robes, their books scattering on the ground as he walked right into her with a slight "oof!" She pushed him away, grasping a handful of his outer robes, pulling him down to her eye-level.

"Listen, Draco," she snarled. "When the truth of a matter stares you in the face on a daily basis, then really, it is hardly brainwashing."

He matched her snarl as he loosened himself from her grip. "When all you see is the world they constructed for you it is. Throw off the chains and step out of the cave."

She stepped back and threw her hands to the sky. "Draco Malfoy, the Great Gryffindor Liberator!" she shouted. "You can tell You-Know-Who you tried you best to hook me when next you speak."

He smoothed out his robes, looking down at her. "I’d think even *you * would know He doesn’t fancy Mudblood recruits."

"Oh, right," she shot back. "That's why you enjoy following me around? If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were stalking me or something equally ridiculous. I *am* a dirty Mudblood after all." She watched him bend down and pick through the books strewn across the path. "In fact, I'm surprised you're even touching my books. You might catch some dreaded Mudblood germs after all, if you'd only know what those were."

Curiosity crinkled his mouth as he fixed her with a look that she couldn't read. He finished gathering up his belongings, being careful to leave hers on the dirtiest parts of the path. He straightened up and moved close to her, the fog clinging to his robes. He bent down, lips even with her ear, the smell of warm male tickling her nose. "You'd be surprised at what I'd touch." 

With a whoosh of black fabric and gray fog he was gone, leaving her with shaking knees and scattered books.


End file.
